Give Me Love by Kate McCarthy
When I slipped on the short, silky black dress and wandered down the stairs the duplex appeared empty. “Hello?”
Jared walked out of the kitchen in jeans and a fitted green vintage t-shirt that matched his eyes perfectly, and I decided then and there I needed to buy a set of sheets in rich emerald green.
“Where is everyone?” I asked.
“You look beautiful.” He took my hands in his and pressed a kiss on my lips. “I thought that since we never got to have our date, and you’re not quite up to going out, we could do it here. I kicked everyone out.”
I looked at him in wonder. “You did that for me? And cooked for me?”
I racked my brain and couldn’t think of a single time that someone had cleared a house and cooked a romantic dinner for me.
My heart filled with admiration at his thoughtful effort, and I bit down on my bottom lip in an attempt to fight the tears that sprang to my eyes.
He shrugged modestly. “Mac might’ve helped a little. Drink?”
“Yes, please.”
I followed him to the kitchen, and he poured two glasses of chilled, white wine, handing one to me, and picking up the other.
“To you, Evie,” he said, lifting up his glass, his green eyes soft as they met mine. “The bravest, funniest, sexiest woman I have ever met.”
I flushed at his praise and sat my glass down to take his hand in my own. “Thank you, Jared. For being there.”
“Don’t thank me, Evie. I’m always here for you.” He smiled before adding seriously. “I admit I wanted to throttle you when I heard you were trying to run Jimmy off the road, but what you did…” His voice was unsteady as he trailed off and cleared his throat. “I admit I was impressed at your driving, but don’t try that again. I don’t think my heart could take it. Though even with that reckless manoeuvre, you managed to stay calm and controlled. If you hadn’t, it could have resulted in something worse, something that doesn’t warrant thinking about. You kept yourself alive and Henry and Jake safe, and I’m so proud of you. I care about you so much.”
With our fingers still linked together, he lifted them and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of my hand. Then he leaned forward, ducking his head and pressing a kiss to my throat. I closed my eyes at the sweet touch, my pulse pounding rapidly where his lips met my neck. I opened my eyes and Jared stepped away, leading me over to the table filled with flowers, candles and a delicious looking dinner of…
“Pizza?” I squealed in disbelief and let out a laugh. “You made pizza! How did you know it was my favourite?”
“I asked Mac,” he said.
Bless you, Mac. I gave it a suspicious look and immediately noted the parts that belonged to Jared. “Is that pumpkin? And spinach?”
“Just because its pizza doesn’t mean it can’t be healthy,” he said, winking at me as he held out a chair for me to take a seat.
I chuckled at his words and sat down, taking a swallow of wine. I could at least see the excessive amounts of cheese and pieces of prosciutto that Mac obviously had a hand in.
We chatted quietly over dinner and wine as my favourite CDs kicked over in a random shuffle. “My favourite wine, favourite food, favourite music. What are you buttering me up for, Jared?”
He came around from the table and pulled me up with both hands, leading me to the lounge room. “Your body obviously, and all the wicked things it does to me.” He winked and a slow song kicked over. “Dance with me?”
After a slow dance about the room, which was more of a sway after two bottles of wine, Jared let go of my hands to sit down on the couch. He crooked a finger at me and plastered a sexy grin on his face. “Come here, I want to do dirty things to you.”
Unable to resist his offer, I rushed towards him, tripped the corner leg of the coffee table, and managed to tackle him on the couch. We rolled to the floor with a thud. “Oops,” I whispered. “I think I might have had a little bit too much to drink.”
He chuckled as he lay on his back with my body over his. “Well, at least we’re on the floor.”
I blinked to focus on his face. “Why?”
“Because Mac made me promise at least ten times that I wouldn’t do you on the couch or she’d never be able to sit on it again.”
“Do me?” I snorted.
“Her words, not mine,” he said, reaching up to run his tongue along my neck and I leaned into it. He moved me onto my back, and I was pinned underneath his weight as his hands ran up my outer thighs, sliding the silky skirt of my dress up and around my hips along the way. I moaned at the feel of rough hands on smooth skin. When his hand slid inside my knickers, I closed my eyes with a shaky breath and tilted my head back, wrapping the length of one leg around his hip. His touch was feather light, skilled and perfect. I felt like I could have stayed there under the weight of him forever.
My handbag buzzed in response to a recent message, startling me out of last night’s memory and bringing me back into the Police Centre. I squirmed my legs together, flushing, and Jared gave me a wicked grin, knowing exactly what I was thinking about. As I reached for my phone in a quest for composure, my eyes focused on Tate storming towards us as he glared daggers at Jared, shoulder holster and badge on display.
At that moment, I finally understood what people meant when they said, “Careful what you wish for.” We were about to become worthy of an award winning cop drama. I watched all eyes in the building swivel to follow Tate as he passed by.
“Goddamn you, Jared,” he shouted when he got close.
Jared stood up quickly, anger radiating from glaring eyes that were cold and hard. The entire floor went silent, apart from my phone which was still buzzing madly. I ignored it, my eyes remaining riveted on the scene unfolding before me.
“Back off, Tate,” he growled.
Not again, I thought with unease, though at least this time I wasn’t wrapped in a sheet.
“Answer your damn phone, baby,” Jared said to irritably without taking his eyes off of Tate.
Tate pointed a finger at Jared’s chest. “Don’t you speak to her like that, asshole. I knew I shouldn’t have left her with you. You almost got her killed!” His voice raised with each word.
I quickly switched off my phone without checking my messages and stood. The entire floor watched with blatant interest. A fake cough rang out from the back of the office as I leaned in to make our discussion more private.
“Tate, You’re being unreasonable.”
Jared spoke calmly. “He’s not being unreasonable, Evie. He’s right. I did almost get you killed.”
I looked at Jared as if he’d grown another head. “What?” I sputtered. “That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s not. That son of a bitch wouldn’t have gone after you if it weren’t for me.” Jared’s expression was pained as he pulled in a deep breath.
“You don’t know that. I could’ve been targeted because of Coby. Besides, who knew the man would do something like this? No one is placing blame anywhere for this.” I turned to Tate with a fierce eyes.
“The fact is that shit happened and you almost got killed. Now that’s something I have to live with,” Jared said.
My pulse quickened in a slight panic, and my hands gripped my bag tightly. I didn’t want him carrying that type of burden around with him.
“You don’t have to live with that. I’m okay, Jared. I’m fine.”
Jared frowned, his eyes still hard, his voice firm and unwavering. “It won’t happen a second time, Evie. I’m not gonna sit by and watch you get hurt again.”
I dropped my arms and Tate interrupted us by taking hold of my hand. “Let’s go, sweetheart,” he said as he glared at Jared.
I wasn’t sure why he was being so antagonist towards Jared. The two of them had punched it out of their systems in true caveman fashion, so it should have been over.
“Get your hands off her,” Jared ground out, his body tense.
Tate wisely let go of my hand. “She needs to make her statement, Jared.” He
Jared folded his arms unhappily. “Where’s Mitch? He said he’d be taking care of this.”
“He’s been held up. Said for me to make a start without him.”
Wanting to avoid another scuffle, this time in public with half of Sydney’s finest watching, I picked up my bag to follow Tate.
Tate pointed a finger at Jared. “You can wait here.”
For a moment, Jared’s look of disbelief outweighed the anger. “Tate, we’re consulting on the case. I have every right to sit in on the interview and hear the formal statement.”
“And you will.” Tate smirked. “When it’s typed up and we fax it to your office.”
“It’s all right,” I assured Jared and leaned in to give him a quick kiss. “It won’t take long. I’ll be fine.”
He returned my kiss quickly. “Come get me if you need me, okay? I’ll be right here.” He glared warningly at Tate. “You keep your hands off her.”
Tate rolled his eyes and as we both walked down the length of the long hallway. I felt a burning crawl up my back as every set of eyeballs in the room tracked our movements. He led me into a small windowless meeting room at the back of the second floor that housed a surprisingly nice office table and four black chairs.
Walking in behind him, he turned and shut the door and took my hand, pulling me in close.
“Evie...” he reached out to run his hand down my cheek “...I was so worried about you.”
I jerked away immediately. “Tate, don’t.”
He sighed in frustration as he moved away, slapping a thick manila folder on the table and nodding towards a chair. “Take a seat.”
When I sat down, he was leaning up against the wall, hands in his pockets, running his eyes over the length of my body before meeting my eyes.
“I could kill him for getting you caught up in this,” he said angrily.
I frowned up at him as he stood there. “Why are you blaming him for this?”
Pushing off the wall, he came over to sit down at the table. “Because he’s reckless. Joe didn’t need to die, and now Jimmy is out there and after you. Are you okay?”
Tate’s disparaging comments towards Jared were like a slap, and I fisted my hands at my sides, fighting the urge to jab a finger in his chest with my next words.
“Whatever Jared did saved the lives of two young kids, and last I heard, it was the job of the police to round Jimmy up and put him away. Jared and Coby have a team out there working tirelessly around the clock, losing money and sleep, to not only find him but cover my ass at the same time and keep me safe. And I’m fine by the way.”
Tate replied by rubbing his hands over his face and exhaling loudly. With his hair mussed and shoulders slumped, he looked tired and worn down. “Can I get you a drink or something before we get started?”
My face softened. “A cup of tea would be nice. Thanks, Tate.”
“Won’t be a sec.” He stood up and stuck his head out the door, murmuring to someone before sitting back down.
“Aren’t you going to record the interview?”
As he opened the thick manila folder, pen at the ready, he pointed up towards the camera in the corner of the ceiling. I ran through everything, stopping every so often to answer one of his questions. We paused halfway through for a young man who came in with tea and biscuits, his movements hurried. He stopped quickly to catch my eye with a brief smile, and then rushed back out the door before I could return it and say thank you. When we finished the interview, Tate handed me a mug shot that Jared had already showed me a week ago, asking me if I was able to identify him as the man in the Camry.
“That’s him,” I confirmed, taking a sip of my tea.
As I handed back the photo, the door opened.
“This looks cosy,” Mitch said to Tate as he walked in, taking in my now curled up position in the chair as I sat munching biscuits and sipping tea.
Mitch looked just as tired as Tate, showing the same furrow in his brow that Jared had. He also had the same golden skin and green eyes that ran through the Valentine family, though his hair was dark brown, almost black, and cut in a short choppy style, the ends going every which way as though he’d run his fingers through it a thousand times.
“We were just wrapping up,” Tate advised.
“Get anything new?” he asked him as he came over and leaned down to kiss my cheek. “Hey, beautiful,” he murmured in my ear.
“Hey, Mitch.” I gave him a warm smile.
Tate cleared his throat at our exchange. “Nope. Not that we expected to.”
Mitch ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “Goddamn asshole must think we’re a bunch of fucking pu…ah pansies,” he corrected for my benefit. He shouldn’t have worried. I lived with a bunch of people who spoke Pottymouth as a second language, though the p-word wasn’t one bandied about often, so his considerate behaviour was appreciated.
I frowned, remembering the nasty text from Jimmy that Henry read out and asked, “What about the message he sent. You can’t trace it somehow?”
“Jared’s already had it checked out, honey, and just like we thought, it came from a disposable,” Mitch replied.
I raised my brows in question. “Disposable?”
“Just a cheap throwaway phone, Evie. We can’t trace it,” Tate expanded.
“Great,” I muttered under my breath.
Chapter Thirteen
“Jared,” I said in a hurry, “it’s not what you think, you don’t―,”
“Fuck. Save it. I should have known better, really, it was stupid of me to think you would be different.”
He rushed to the front door, swung it open, and stalked out, slamming it shut behind him.
I sucked in painful breaths while everyone watched me in silent shock, apart from Mac who was looking at me with narrowed eyes.
How had it come to this?
Since everything seemed to be on an up hill swing, something needed to happen. The laws of the cosmos dictated balance. The universal scales of life were off kilter, and now I needed to be brought back down to earth where I belonged.
The day started with Sydney suffering under the throes of a heatwave. Mac and Henry lounged on recliners, moaning about the stifling humidity. Cam who came to visit from Melbourne, and I moaned in hunger while we watched a movie.
Mac’s phone rang, startling us out of our heatwave coma. With her legs dangling off the side of the chair, she pulled it out of her pocket, sighing as she looked at the screen, and promptly disappeared up the stairs. She came down the stairs so fast she took a stumble at the last leg and fell in crumpled heap of twisted body parts, not a trace of lethargy remaining. I rushed over to help pick her up off the floor, and despite a little wincing as she struggled to her feet, she blurted out the reason for the phone call. I almost knocked her back over when I heard Gary Gilmore from Jettison Records wanted us in that very afternoon.
During a late lunch, we met Casey for the first time. He had recently returned from overseas and was assigned bodyguard duty for our trek to the city to see Gary. It wasn't exactly his brand of excitement since it didn’t come with a shoot-out and a car roll or two, but we were enthusiastic enough to practically be doing cartwheels.
The seven of us (the band and Cam) were squished around the dining table eating hot chips and chatting excitedly when the knock came at the door. While Henry got up to answer it, I quickly scooped the rapidly dwindling pile of chips onto my plate ignoring shouts, frantic scrambling, and complaints which included words like greedy bitch and someone saying, “Your ass could have its own postcode.” I was pretty sure that one came from Mac, and giving her the laser death stare took all my attention, so I didn't expect to find my plate empty.
“You greedy seagulls!” I yelled.
“Us seagulls, Evie?” Frog raised his brows incredulously.
“Damn straight.” I reached across to grab a massive handful of chips off his plate and shoved them into my mouth
An amused male voice spoke near the table, suspending my dilemma.
“Did I miss lunch?”
Looking to the direction of said voice, I blanched, thinking that Jensen Ackles had somehow taken a wrong turn and materialised in our dining room in Sydney, Australia.
“Jesus Christ,” Cam mumbled, obviously arriving at the same conclusion.
Henry introduced him around the table as Casey, and when his blue eyes fixed on mine, I merely nodded politely, struck speechless and only partly because my mouth was full of chips. I chewed frantically and swallowed a mouthful so big I felt it ache on the vertical downslide.
“Ready to go?” he asked.
Casey raised his delicious eyebrows as the three of us girls looked at him in silence. Could eyebrows even be delicious? I assumed so because his were.
“Uh…” I managed.
Mac nodded.
Cam sat staring silently.
Later that afternoon, as Casey waited in reception, we found ourselves sitting at a boardroom table in expensive high backed cream leather chairs, fidgeting nervously just as we had been for the past half an hour. My hands gripped the arms of the chair fiercely, fingernails digging in, while I sucked in short, sharp breaths. Mac kept giving me odd looks, but I could barely afford her a glance since I was physically restraining myself from getting down on my hands and knees to kiss the thick, plush carpet in a giddy frenzy of gratitude.
The tinted floor to ceiling windows of the June Grady building let in a sunny glare. Already sweaty from anxiety, I was left wishing I had some tissues to stick under my armpits. I evened my breathing by focusing on the iconic view of Centrepoint Tower and the Harbour Bridge.
“Evie,” Mac hissed. “Fix your hair.”
I didn’t quite catch what she said because I was too busy gagging a little. Was I really going to ralph all over the creamy expanse of carpet? Did I really need to eat that supersized caramel sundae right before we got here? Cold shivers racked my body, and I felt I was suffocating under a haze of fear. What if I cocked this up? It was an entirely possible scenario because I cock up most things. It would be on my tombstone. Here lies Genevieve Jamieson, strangled by a giant sheet because she cocked up her life. Too much rode on this meeting, not just for me either, which made it worse. I risked a glance at Frog and Cooper, then Jake, Henry, and Mac, who still gave me odd looks and tried to catch my attention. They looked just as freaked out as I was. Frog had a sheen of sweat lining his forehead. Cooper’s beautiful olive skin was so unnaturally pale the tattoo under his shirt that climbed around the side of his neck stood out in stark contrast. Jake clenched his jaw, and Henry was counting to a hundred; because from across the table I could lip-read him silently saying, “...eighty-five, eighty-six, eighty-seven.”